


The Flowers Smell Nice

by brightfuture



Series: Shawties [6]
Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Allusions to self harm., M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23032594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightfuture/pseuds/brightfuture
Summary: Ancom is happy now.
Relationships: Authleft/Libleft
Series: Shawties [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643923
Comments: 9
Kudos: 99





	The Flowers Smell Nice

**Author's Note:**

> You guys keep projecting yourselves onto Ancom and depicting him as all depressed and angsty n shit, and it's making me upset, so I've decided to also project myself on Ancom and make him happy because he deserves more. 😤 Happiness is possible, I promise. You'll get there. I promise. <3

Happiness. Life is nothing but good moments to create happy memories to get you through the bad moments until the next good moments. And lately I’ve been having more and more of those good moments. This is one of them.

Lying in a field with my head in Tankie’s lap as he plays with my hair idly, I feel content. I feel happy. I am happy that I made it this far, made it through the bad moments, made it to this good moment. The flowers surrounding us are tall and proud. I think, for a moment, that I relate to them now. Tall and proud. I live for a cause, have a purpose. And that purpose is the revolution.

Tankie thinks I can’t lead the revolution without him, but he’s wrong. I know that now. And I know it’s not much praxis, but the nights where he and I run in the streets painting our symbols on the walls, are the nights where I feel at most alive and happiest to be alive. The many moments where we laughed ourselves silly while making shitty excuses for portraits of our idols on the walls under a bridge or somewhere take up a good portion of my collection of happy memories to get me through the bad moments.

Bad moments. I pull up my sleeves and observe my wrists, covered in faded white scars. I don’t have many of those anymore.

“Ah,” Tankie says, grabbing one of my arms to inspect it, “how long has it been since the last time, now?”

I have to think. I can’t even remember properly.

“I think about half a year now,” I answer.

He smiles down at my warmly.

“I’m very proud of you.”

He ruffles my hair and I slide off his lap in an attempt to escape his hand, landing with my head amongst the flowers.

“I’m not a kid,” I laugh.

“Oh, I know,” he answers, leaning forward until he’s balancing over me. I lie there in the grass, with him on top of me, and look into his eyes, wondering for a moment if he is why I’m so happy. He makes me happy, very happy actually, but I don’t think he’s my source of happiness- it’s not dependent on him. I have a lot of happy moments with others.

Like when Ancap and I got high and designed a whole new universe together. Drugs. I don’t feel dependent on those either. They’re fun as hell, but I don’t need those to be happy. I don’t need anything to be happy. Or anyone.

Some nights I lie up at 3 am and, where I’d usually be questioning why I even exist and despairing in the fact that I’ll never change or fix anything, I stare up at the ceiling with pure determination, feeling the revolutionary energy flowing through my veins. I am confident in myself now. I have no doubts of the greatness I’ll achieve- but as part of a collective. 

I don’t get to ponder in Commie’s loving eyes for long before he closes the gap between us, giving me another wet kiss. He is heavy, in a good way. The sun feels warm and comforting on my skin. The ground is rough. The flowers smells nice. I am happy.


End file.
